


Be Brave

by Lela_Daliah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU- Fix it, Alternate Universe- Everyone Lives, Drama, M/M, More tags to be added, Post-Movie, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:06:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lela_Daliah/pseuds/Lela_Daliah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After death, Harry was turned into a spirit who guides and helps his charges when he is called on. He wakes after a long deep slumber and meets his newest charge, a hobbit far away from home.</p>
<p>Bilbo is now searching for his own path in life, dealing with his fears and making difficult choices. With help from Harry, he hopes to find something, someone worth living and fighting for; Harry will make sure Bilbo finds happiness though he did not even believe he would find his at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be slow and this is the first time I am writing a fan fiction for both fandoms. Please feel free to critique, and give opinions. :) I hope my story entertains you all! Please also excuse grammar errors.

He had been long asleep in a deep peaceful slumber; for how long no one could ever be certain, himself included. He would have continued to sleep if not for that persistent tug in his mind. A call so soft yet strong, a tug that did not cease as he struggled within himself to open his eyes. The thin skin that covered an unworldly emerald green eye and another colored a cool silver with a golden ring fluttered open slowly, revealing those vibrant colors to the world as the male regained consciousness. His mind was a blank slate for long silent moments before he moved to sit up. His shoulders were pleasantly covered by the curling tips of his locks of ebony hair, heavy and thick yet easy swayed by a gust of wind.

A soft wind like noise left those soft plump dark pink lips that were pushed into a pucker, a hand reaching up to cover them when his mouth was suddenly preyed open by a sudden yawn. A soft ring caught his attention when it reached his ears and it caused a frown to form on his lips. He slowly stood from his resting place, his lean petite body covered by a long white gown. He shuddered at the sight and he could say he felt a cold shiver run up his spine. He nearly blended in with the rest of the bleak white décor that surrounded him and his hair was a vast contrast against the ocean of white he was able to see. He was reluctantly grateful that there were variations of shade and illumination within the whites—he would otherwise be running into everything for the lack of ability in differentiating obstacles. 

The ring caught his attention again and within seconds he closed his eyes to focus on the call. Sounds of shouts, screams and clashing steel reached his ears. He cringed at the constant chaos that riddles his senses within seconds of making the connection. He zipped through the memories of the caller, recognizing his emotions, fears, desires and wishes to that very moment in time. He made sense of the rush of snippets of memories and when his eyes fluttered open the male had a deep connection to his charge. A tired smile appeared across his lips, memories of a long forgotten past coming back within his thoughts. He understood the desperation, the fear and the hope of it all ending soon with the lives of those cared about safe and alive.

Taking a deep breath, he once again closed his eyes and eased all thoughts from his mind, his mouth opening to recite a few soft chants as he intertwined his soul with that of his charge; he connected the ribbons and tangled them to create heavy braids and knots, permanently creating a relationship between their souls and lives. The moment when he opened his eyes he found the fallen form of his charge in front of him, whom had his heart racing and sword at hand. 

“Fear not young one,” he spoke gently as not to scare the other.

His charge was frightened still, he jumped at his voice and darted his head from side to side trying to see whom had spoken to him. The pair was amidst the chaos of a battle, the smell of blood and the clashing of steel reached him the moment he had appeared besides his charge. 

“I am here to help you, tell me what you so desire most,” he continued to speak knowing the other would not be able to see him just yet.

The smaller male with large hairy feet and golden brown curls seemed to debate within himself if he could trust his voice and he took it upon himself to ease the fear and trembling body of his charge. After a moments of silence between the two, though the battle around them continued to rage on, the other spoke what he desired the most.

“Protection,” there was a pause, “Protect them from the enemy, all of them!” By the end, his charge was nearly screaming his wish and he could feel the desperation and fear of death raging and destroying his hopes. 

He did not offer a response as he accepted the request; he turned towards the hordes of orcs and know what else. The rings in his eyes glowed a deep gold as he raised his hands forward, palms raised to the skies before he allowed his magic to shift the ground beneath the enemies’ feet and the earth split open to swallow the fowl beasts whole, closing only once it had swallowed them. Many were left in shock at what had occurred in front of them, swords still in midair in pause as their intended target vanished before their eyes. Dwarves, men, and elves looked from one to the other trying to make sense of the entire situation. The male mused at the dumfounded looks upon their faces before realization seemed to cross them all.

Cheers erupted from all sides and as he brought his attention back to his charge, he could see the other searching around anxiously for what he assumed was a certain dwarf king. He huffed in amusement knowing well what pushed those reactions from his charge, but he knew he should let it run its course—even if the fear within the small male before him was stemmed from the very same king who had threatened to kill him due to an apparent betrayal. A betrayal he himself agreed to when he understood the circumstances. Emotions were fickle things, but all the same powerful enough to destroy. They were a double edged sword, causing both strength and weakness to the being who felt them and leaving them the victims of an unseen inner war.

“Bilbo,” he spoke softly, trying to gain the hobbits attention.

Said hobbit turned to look at him, his eyes growing in size at the sight of him and his mouth opening and closing slightly in a repeated pattern. He wore a smile on his lips as he watched his charge struggle to make sense of him and what had occurred. Bilbo seemed to fight his imagination and truth as he debated over his presence and the fact that the battle had been won. 

“You…you,” he tried to speak, but he knew what Bilbo was trying to say even without him voicing it; he could read him well after all.

“Yes, that was me. You asked me to, did you not?”

“Yes…yes! But that…what?”

He laughed lightly, his shoulders shaking before he looked at Bilbo once again. He reached over and ran his fingers through the others hair even if he flinched back slightly at the approach of his hand. Bilbo shuddered at the feeling though he seemed to connect it to a form of comfort from the strange male before him. His body relaxed to the touch and his eyes opened to look into the different colored male’s eyes. The smile that greeted him seemed so soft, so caring and warm that he did not realize he returned it with one of his own, though shaky and small.

“You will understand soon enough young one. For now be at ease, rest and recover… I am always with you, remember that.”

After blinking once, the hobbit gasped as the male who stood before him seemed to have vanished. Frantically, he looked around trying to spot the other but his efforts proved in vain. His heart fluttered and thumped wildly in his chest when a sudden familiar and soft voice reached his ears.

“Be calm, I’m always with you Bilbo.”

He took in a deep breath, releasing it after a moment and pushed himself to relax. A warm feeling covered his entire being, an invisible blanket that had been draped over his shoulders it seemed. Biting his lower lip, the hobbit looked around once more and debated within himself on what to do next. He was sure if he explained what had occurred, no one would believe him. He himself could not and he had witnessed it himself. Bilbo knew he would see that male again, but he was curious to see who, what he was to cause such a familiarity and warmth within him with a few simple words and a simple touch.

“Bilbo?”

The hobbit physically jumped and spun on his heel, looking for the source of the voice. He gasped, coming face to face with a dwarf.

“Bofur?” 

“What? What are you doing out here? I though….” The dwarf trailed off in the end, his face contorting into one that held pain.

Bilbo could only guess that his own looked the same as he looked at the armor covered dwarf, though he was surprised that his distinguishable hat had remained on the others head. He wondered briefly if he had lost it and only now placed it upon his head when he had found it after the battle was won. 

“I know…but are…are the others alright?”

He had to know, know that what he did, his betrayal had been worth it and he also hoped that the appearance and help of the sudden male who once stood beside him had helped save the others’ lives. He hoped so, by all Valar he hoped they were all alive at least.

“I do not know, not right now since we were all separated but…Bilbo…I’m so-,” he was cut off.

“Don’t be Bofur, I know I hurt you all. I know; but I don’t regret it. Just…just let me know, please?”

Bofur gave him a nod and the two hugged, glad to see the other was safe and alive. They pulled apart reluctantly, smiling at each other before they departed ways and Bilbo made his way back towards the camps while the dwarf made his way back towards Erebor. The hobbit felt a warmth cover him again and he smiled small. He could only wait now; wait for Bofur to bring him news of the others, good news he hoped. Bilbo was abruptly guided to the healing tent the moment he stepped into the camping area of men and within moments, perhaps longer but his attention had been focused on battling the tenacious elf whom was trying to check for further injuries, Bard and Thandruil came through the entrance together and their faces were stoic at best.

Bard walked over, his strides confident but tired before kneeling besides the bed and checking over the hobbit himself as the healer discussed Bilbo’s reluctance towards treatment to the elven king of Mirkwood. The hobbit’s attention however, was turned towards the bowman of Laketown and tried to convince the man that he had nothing but scratches and shallow cuts on his body. 

“Bilbo, please,” Bard pleaded, “Let them clean those cuts and bandage them. Even the smallest cuts can become infected.”

“But I can do it myself,” Bilbo retorted.

“Perhaps, but Valar knows what those swords or weapons had on them. Poison is not something that can be easily ignored or did you forget about what happened to the young dwarf prince?” 

Bilbo flinched at the memory. A soft “Kili” left his lips and all three figures knew it was a sore subject for the hobbit. Thranduil and Bard had been present the moment Thorin had threatened the hobbit over the edge of the stone wall, hands wrapped tightly around his neck and eyes wild and fierce as the king spoke of cruelty towards the smaller male. Bard felt guilt; he had brought the Arkenstone in hopes for trade but it had only seemed to anger the dwarf king. Thranduil however, simply felt that his judgement on dwarfs had been proven fact then. Thorin had fallen into madness just like his grandfather before him. All dwarfs were weak to the call of gold and gems.   
Bilbo’s hands clenched onto his clothing, tightly grasping them as his thoughts raced over the dwarfs that at the moment he only hoped were still alive. They had to be alive, injured but alive at least or it would all have been in vain. His betrayal, his heartbreak, his pain, his tears—all for nothing. His teeth clenched and remained so as he nodded his agreement to the healing and Bard let out a small breath of relief. 

“Rest after you’re all cleaned up; we will bring you food,” the man said before standing and moving back towards the elf king.

They were silent as their eyes met before Bard led the way out of the tent, Thranduil following soon after. The tent was silent as Bilbo silently sat and allowed the healer to clean his cuts and scrapes, covering with cloth before the healer walked out to see where else he was needed. He glanced at his hands that had been slightly covered as well and could not help but note how heavy they felt. He glanced towards a side table where the lamp stood along with a cup of herbal medicine. His nose wrinkled in distaste before his attention was brought back to the entrance, the cloth flapping open and closed as soon as the figure stepped inside.

“Legolas?” Bilbo asked in surprise.

“Bilbo,” the fair elf greeted before he made his way over to stand beside the cot.

“I see you have no scratch on you,” the hobbit noted with a tired smile.

“And I see you were not so lucky, my friend,” Legolas smiled small in return.

“Luckier than most, I am still alive.”

“True as that may be, shall I ask why you were on the field? I did not see you when the battle began nor during and I assure you I was scouting from my vantage point.”

“Vantage point?” Legolas did not offer an answer.

“I was there, late but I was there. I could not let them go at it alone…not when they had just claimed their home back. I, I had to do something,” Bilbo explained softly. “Is it   
wrong, wrong to feel so strong for them even if I betrayed them? Even if I caused them pain?”

“Bilbo,” Legolas tried.

“Don’t Legolas, we all know I had indeed betrayed them, even if it was for them: to protect them, to save them, to help them; I still used their trust against them by stealing that piece of stone and it nearly cost me my life! Is it wrong? Wrong to care for them still?”

“No, my friend; you care deeply for them though I cannot understand why,” Legolas muttered the end low and in distaste though it caused the hobbit to chuckle softly. “You were willing to die for them and that speaks volumes of you Bilbo Baggins, hobbit from the Shire.” 

The hobbit smiled, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was glad to see he had a friend in the elf prince who did not judge him for his foolishness even if he could not understand. He was glad to see, to feel he was not alone. He wondered only briefly what he would do after. Perhaps return to the shire, he was after all banished from Erebor and forbidden to ever return. His eyes felt heavy and Legolas told him to sleep. Without a word, the hobbit leaned back onto the bed, head upon is pillow and soon drifted off into a heavy sleep.

He could here birds chirping along with the smell of spring flowers. His mind slowly awoke as his eyes fluttered open and was welcomed by a scene of utter beauty. The trees were vibrant green while the flowers that surrounded him were of various colors and shades. They danced and swayed when a gentle breeze swept through what he considered was a valley, the sky a clear light blue with soft clouds off in the distance. A pair of white butterflies danced and fluttered in front of him suddenly, before taking off to an unknown destination. He felt as if he had returned to the Shire, though this place was much more—alive. 

“Welcome,” he heard and he instantly turned around, gasping at the sight of the young man in front of him.

“I-it’s you!”

The dark haired male chuckled as if he were amused by the hobbit’s response to his greeting.

“It is I, yes,” he returned.

“I… I don’t even know your name how rude?!”

“Tis’ of no offence, Bilbo Baggins.”

There was a moment of silence between the two; Bilbo out of shock before he managed to bring himself to react.

“How?”

“How do I know your name?” He warned a nod.

“It is a long story, small one, but to shorten it for you I shall say this: You called me from my slumber, you requested my help and as I had decided to help I made a connection between you and me. A connection that will forever be, even after you pass. This connection we share, allowed me to see and feel what you have since the moment of your birth to this moment in time.” 

“You mean—you can feel what I’m feeling? Like, now?” 

“Yes, Bilbo,” he said with a smile.

There was a pause, before Bilbo spoke again.

“What is your name?” A smile was given.

“I go by many names, Bilbo,” he started, “but you may call me Guarian.”

“Gua-guarian?”

The hobbit struggled with the pronunciation, his nose wrinkling every time he felt he had said it wrong and Guarian, whom stood still watching the hobbit, smiled for a few moments longer before a soft chuckle left his lips. Guarian had not been entertained for so long, but the sudden energy of the inquisitive, polite and a tad stubborn hobbit was quite a refreshing experience. It had been long, too long, since he had someone to speak to, to connect with and he could not help but find himself glad to have been woken up by Bilbo. However, he could feel the darkness that threatened not only the land, but the hobbit himself. He had felt the tugs to Bilbo’s heart and mind, hear the constant but nearly silent calls; Bilbo could only cope for so long.

“That is correct Master Baggins,” he finally spoke once more once he caught that his name was being pronounced quite well. 

A silence fell between the pair and Guarian could feel the storm brewing deep inside the smaller body, though if he were to compare, his own original one would not be much bigger. Those thoughts were quickly erased when he felt a pang of fear and dread fill him and his eyes flashed upon Bilbo whose shoulders were slumped and body hunched over in defeat.

“What troubles you, young one?”

Guarian could see the struggle in the other’s eyes once their gazes met. A struggle that he could not define the source; he waited patiently for a reply.

“I, I don’t know what to do now, Guarian. I am worried about-,” he took in a deep breath, his throat nearly clogging, “them and even though I have been banished—“, Bilbo was cut short.

“Do not worry Bilbo, things shall be sorted. Time will sooth your wounds, but for now, for now you must rest. Your body needs it,” Guarian offered as he slowly walked towards the tired form.

He ran his slim fingers through the curled and shaggy golden brown strands of hair.

“Rest now, you will know what to do once you wake.”

Bilbo closed his eyes as he felt a deep warmth both fill and envelop him on from all sides. He fell into darkness and knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my grammatical errors! Please leave a comment as well. :)

He felt lighter, very much so as his eyes fluttered open. He was greeted by the dim light that passed through the tent cloth, his arm coming to cover his eyes as he struggled to fully wake himself into conscious. He could now hear the chatter from outside; the hooves or horses and steps of men. He burrowed himself deeper into his pillow, snuggling into the blanket as he did not wish to leave the warmth. Bilbo felt at peace, felt at ease for those brief moments before his memory caught up to him. With a heavy sigh, he forced his eyes to open though he made no move to actually leave the cot. It was then that the flaps of the entrance flew open to reveal the tall slim form of an elf.

“Legolas?”

“I see that you are awake, have a good rest?”

Bilbo offered the blonde a sleepy smile, a smile which was returned as his answer to the question was understood. His smile faltered, however, when he looked at the blonde again.

“Any news?”

“Not many casualties as we had first believed, a great relief. The dwarf King and the princes live as does the rest of his company.”

His shoulders slumped as he staggered out a chocked sob. Relief, hope, fear and exhaustion hit him all at once. 

“T-that’s, that is good,” the hobbit stuttered.

“Their injuries are mostly minor, the worst a few blows to the head but they shall recover,” Legolas added, torn at the sight before him. 

The elf did not stay for too long, small chatter followed over the hobbit’s own status before he was left alone in the tent once more. Bilbo simply laid still on the cot, his mind reeling at the news. They were all safe, battered a bit but still, all alive. He thought of a silent thank you and felt his body warm for a brief moment before the sensation disappeared as quickly as it had come. He then pushed himself to sit, groaning when he felt his muscles twinge and bones crack at the movement, though it felt good after. He let out a breath to relax his body before looking around the tent.  
Bilbo wondered if the dwarfs were worried about him, as much as he was for them. His smile was both broken and tired; he just hoped they would forgive him, eventually. His attention was then turned to the entrance once more, Gandalf and Bard coming into the tent and greeting him with relief and smiles; Bilbo returned the greeting though he yawned at the end. Both men chuckled as they approached; they were relieved to see the hobbit fairing it well and though sleepy, he did not look pale as he did before.

“How did you sleep?” asked Bard.

“Well, I did not wake for a moment until now.”

“That is good to hear,” replied Gandalf with a smile of his own.

“So how is everyone?”

“Healing, scrapes and bumps for most of them though there were a few who fell to orc blades,” Bard explained, his voice betraying the hurt he felt when his face remained stoic.

There was a brief silence, before Gandalf spoke once more.

“We shall be thankful that no more casualties were brought upon us; though the question remains. What happens now?”

“Laketown needs aid, it will not be easy when the harsh winter continues for all homes were lost to Smaug as well as much of our food and resources,” Bard spoke, shoulders heavy.

“Did, have you gone to request for aid?” Bilbo asked.

“To the dwarfs, yes; they agreed to help in any way they can. I’m grateful we have returned to being allies,” Bard admitted, his eyes on the hobbit who simply nodded. 

“What shall you do Bilbo?” asked Gandalf.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Shall you return to the Shire?”

Bilbo faltered in his answer as he looked down at his lap; he had no desire to go when things were still such a mess. A mess between himself and the dwarves and the mess that resulted due to the battle. He turned to look at the two men before speaking.

“No, not yet. There is still such a mess left that I, as a proper hobbit cannot ignore. I was part of the reason all of this happened,” he voiced.

“No one blames you, Bilbo,” Bard reasoned.

“I know, but even so… I cannot put the blame on someone, something else when I am part of it,” Bilbo was resolute as he spoke.

“There is no rush, though perhaps we shall leave when the flowers start to bloom if you were to leave. Less trouble when travelling,” Gandalf said.

Bilbo smiled and nodded, before frowning once more.

“Gandalf?”

“Yes, Bilbo?” 

“Do you know what happened? On the battle grounds,” he asked.

“Yes, I have the same question.”

“Well it was peculiar, how the earth seemed to open and swallow the enemy whole. Though I must say, I had nothing to do with that.”

“Then who did? I myself witnessed it and it only occurred where they stood. No man, elf or dwarf fell from what I know,” Bard moved to sit beside   
Bilbo’s bed, looking at the so called wizard. 

Bilbo bit his lip as the wizard spoke again.

“Is there something you want to say, Bilbo?”

“Me?” Bilbo would later refuse that he squeaked.

“I believe I do, Gandalf,” there was a sudden voice that belonged to neither men nor hobbit and it caused them all to jump. 

All turned to the corner and there, on a chair, sat Guarian.

“Who are you?!” Bard jumped to his feet, voice wary but ready to fight with his bare hands. 

“Reomdur, is that you?” Gandalf asked, his eyes wide in shock.

The man smiled at the old man, chuckling as he stood but gave a nod when he was firmly on his feet. Bilbo and Bard looked at each other before returning their attention to Gandalf and the other.

“It has been quite a while, has it not?”

“A while indeed my old friend; when did you?”

“I woke a day a go.”

“A day a go? So you were?”

“Yes, that was I indeed. I could not ignore the request of my charge.”

“Charge?” Both voices belong to Bard and Gandalf; Bilbo felt his cheeks flush.

“Bilbo?” Gandalf received a nod. 

Guarian turned to Bard, his eyes dancing with mirth and warmth. Bard flushed at the gaze when he turned to face him; he himself did not understand why. 

“Bard, the bowman of Laketown who slayed the dragon; you have much to look forward to though I can see you shall struggle with it,” 

Said man continued to flush as those unworldly miss-colored pair of eyes continued to gaze into what felt like his soul. Bard struggled with his words as his heart raced; his mind was in shambles as he, Guarian, approached him with what he could only compare to the elegance of an elf. He felt a warm hand against his cheek and his eyes met those of the ebony haired male. His heart thumped against his chest and though he knew it was not of fear, he could not tare his eyes away. 

“You shall be a great leader, a great father and a wondrous friend,” Guarian’s voice flowed through the air so easily and smooth. 

“The Valar are at your side,” he ended before he pulled his hand back, leaving the stunned bowman behind as he turned his attention to Gandalf. 

“Bilbo is my charge, he woke me from my sleep. I am his guardian and will aide when he asks for help,” he explained as he moved to take seat on the cot. 

Silence had fallen between the group, the three looking at the apparent guardian of Bilbo in wonder and deep rooted confusion. None of it made sense, none of it at all, and yet Guarian seemed at ease with the distraught and lost minds of those around him. His smile did not falter when it made its way upon his face; it was soft and held a sincerity that had been forgotten by many during the turmoil of the experiences they had all encountered in their lives. Guarian turned his head towards the hobbit, whom was lost within his own racing thoughts.

“Calm yourself, Bilbo,” he said with another smile. 

The hobbit jumped in surprise, though most from being pulled out of his own thoughts; he blinked as he stared at the smiling face and again he felt his body relax under the gaze. His shoulders slumped before Bilbo himself managed return his own smile at Guarian, whose smile seemed to grow even more at the response from the hobbit. 

“It seems my dear friend, that you will be at Bilbo’s side from now,” Gandalf spoke.

Guarian turned to the apparent wizard and grinned.

“So I shall.” 

“Will you be protecting him from now on?” Bard asked.

“To the best of my ability. That I promise.”

Guarian’s answer was firm, though the smile on his face no longer was present, Bard could see the truth in his eyes and knew the promise would be fulfilled. He was taken back by the earnest of his words and emotions and Bard found himself gulping a heavy amount of spit that seemed to just swell in his mouth. He felt his whole body freeze when those two different colored eyes fell on him once again; an utter feeling of absolute peace swept him off his feet and he nearly swayed and fell upon the floor.

“What shall happen now?” Guarian asked, though he was met with silence. 

“Now?” Bilbo asked

“Yes, what will you do now? Stay here or return to the Shire?”

Bilbo could not find a respond though he had always believed he would return home; however, now he had nothing to say to that question. The hobbit was at a lost; he did not wish to leave Erebor without knowing the others, the company would be alright though he was afraid, scared of what his companions now thought of him. He was not sure if they would at all bring him any news of the conditions of the injured. Biting his lower lip, he turned towards the three taller men and opened his mouth to speak. 

“I said I would wait, so I shall. Just when I hear what I need to know, then I shall return, home.” 

All who were present heard the pause, but not one mentioned or pointed any attention to it. They fell into a calm yet tense silence, none knowing what else to say. That is until Guarian spoke up.

“Do not fret dearest Bilbo; I shall always be there for you. Never doubt that for even a second.”

That statement alone put him at ease; Bilbo gave Guarian a smile though it did not completely reach his eyes. 

“You should rest some more still; if there is any news someone shall wake you,” Guarian added, the other two confirming the statement with a nod.

Hesitantly, Bilbo also nodded and moved to lay on the bed before pulling the covers onto his body. He nuzzled the pillow as he slowly but surely drifted off into a dreamless sleep though he swore he could hear the soothing voice of Guarian sing a melody far off in the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have not taken the time to edit and will not until after the story is done. Hope you do not mind!

 

 

It was a few days later that Bilbo gathered his things, his weapon and the first and last gift from the dwarf king included, and prepared for his departure from the slowly reconstructed Laketown. They had years of repair ahead of them, both men from the town and dwarves from Erebor, but he knew they would get off their feet in no time. They were resilient, living in such conditions was proof enough along with being active in war. They will all be alright.

Negotiations between men and dwarves were going fine, albeit the rough start, though it could not be said the same between elves and dwarves. There was still the bad blood though they tried to act civilized whenever they had to be within the same vicinity; however, more often times than not they ended in a verbal war. Bilbo could see they would work the kinks out eventually though he was sure there would be many, many, many bumps along the road.

Bilbo could also not ignore the looming question that had been hanging over him since he had learned of the dwarves fates; he had to decide to return to the shire or something else and the hobbit had no answer to give anyone though he could feel their eyes on him. He would have to come up with an answer soon and he honestly could say that although he had a desire to stay, he felt the urge to leave; leave home or at least from the mountain and see where the road took him. He was not the same hobbit that left the Shire and he was not sure if he could image himself living there again. He turned to the left and saw Guarian, smiling at him. He took in a deep breath, cheeks puffing out filled with air, before he let it out as he approached his apparent guardian.

“How are you feeling?” Guarian greeted.

“Better, but confused.”

Guarian gave a soft hum in understanding, eyes closing for a single moment before he turned towards Bilbo and then towards the looming mountain a few miles away. Silence fell between the two as they stared at the mountain from where they stood, yet Bilbo could not bring himself to break it.

“You still have a life ahead of you Bilbo, do not let the fear or shame control your decision,” not once did Guarian look at him when he spoke, eyes still staring straight ahead, “Do what you want, not what you think others want you to do.”

The taller man turned towards the hobbit, his smile faint on his lips. Bilbo could see he knew all along what he was fighting against, understood his torn thoughts, but even then Guarian wanted him to think of himself first, something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. He nodded, though said not a word in response and that seemed to satisfy the other; Guarian reached and gave a single, stable and firm squeeze on his shoulder.

“Remember you are not alone; this is your life, not another’s.”

Bilbo looked up, staring right into Guarian’s eyes, searching for something. Apparently this seemed to amuse the guardian for he chuckled and ruffled the hobbit’s hair before he went to move back to the tens, leaving the single hobbit alone with his own thoughts. A moment later, he ran after Guarian just as he had done with the dwarves months ago, running knowing he would regret it otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“Awake are ye’” he heard.

His body felt heavy, far too heavy to move even an inch. His lips felt dry and mouth was parched; with disdain he realized he needed a bath as soon as possible. With a deep groan he forced himself to open his eyes, catching sight of a blurred figure looming over him; said figure had white hair, that much he was able to see, though he recalled the voice the instant it spoke to him again.

“Don’t strain yourself laddie, you took a nasty blow to the head though the others would be glad to hear you are fully awake now, had us scared for a few days before you awoke only to fall back asleep again.”

“Balin,” he managed to say.

“Rest now, Thorin, you are safe and all are alive—including your nephews.”

Thorin felt a weight lift off his chest; he had feared for them. He remembered he had seen them fall and in anger he rushed the enemy without taking a single look towards either of the boys, his fear and regret did not allow him such distractions; Thorin only felt the urge to seek for revenge for both of them whether or not they were alive. His thoughts were stopped when he felt a sting run up his side causing him to gurgle out a pained sound.

“Easy! Oin will have my head if you moved; your wound was shallow but it was large enough to cause concern—can’t have you opening it again now after it’s been stitched,” Balin explained.

“How is the rest of the company? The others?” Thorin questioned, ceasing his movements.

“Well, banged up though some did lose their lives, but the company is alive—“

“How is that possible? There were so many of them, there should have been—“

“We know, no one can say exactly what happened other than the earth opening up and swallowing most if not all the orcs on the battlefield. Odd how it seemed to only target out enemies; it seems no man, dwarf or even elf fell victims to the holes on the ground,” Balin explained, voice strained as he was unsure on how to process the apparent stories from the witnesses.

Thorin debated over it; it was hard to swallow what he had been told though he found himself grateful for whatever did occur on the battlefield. Ultimately, they had all been spared from death by the unknown force that swallowed the enemy into the earth. Just as the dwarf was to speak again, the door of his room swung open and revealed two young dwarfs whom froze at the sight before them.

There was a moment of utter silence, then it was broken.

“UNCLE!”

“You’re Awake!”

Both young dwarfs wore nearly identical grins as they rushed up to the bed, stopping just before either of them crashed into the bed ridden form of their leader, their uncle and king. They were careful as they arched their bodies down and hugged the male with upmost diligence and joy. Thorin returned the abrupt affection as best as he could, raising his arms to run his fingers through the full heads of hair of his nephews.

“Yes, and I am glad to see you two are fine as well though—“ It was then that Thorin noticed Kili’s sling.

“Broken arm,” was the dark haired man’s response though his grin never faltered.

“It’s a miracle he managed not to break anything else,” Fili jested earning him a slap on his arm by his younger brother.

Thorin felt at ease, glad to see the two were alright even as they wore the injuries they had sustained. Their spirits had not been broken or deterred; they still seemed to be them before the battle and for that he was grateful to all powerful unworldly beings. He smiled at the pair as they continued to banter about breaking various objects, including bones. He then recalled something, a scream from the distance; a familiar voice.

“The hobbit,” he muttered, causing the room to fall into silence, “What happened to him?”

He was met with silence again, though the three dwarves looked at each other, unsure on what to say for they themselves knew little of the hobbit. They hadn’t heard much, though they all hoped hopes the small creature was alive. Bofur had said he had seen him on the battle after the orcs disappeared, banged up but nothing life threatening.

“Well, Bofur said he saw him on the battlefield after the orcs disappeared,” Balin started and Thorin’s features on his face hardened at the news, “but according to him, he seemed to be fine with just a few scrapes at its worst.”

Thorin slowly processed the others words, his mind mulling over every detail as he tried to ignore the rush of both relief and regret that practically slammed into him like a falling stone during a cave in. He struggled to control himself, his breathing shaky as he closed his eyes and the room fell into a silence as no one knew what else to say. They were in a lost on what else to do.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this?” Bard asked looking at the pair, a frown upon his lips.

Guarian smiled at the man, giving the archer another wave of warmth that filled every inch of his body. He did not understand how or why he felt so calm around the other or why he felt so warm within a short period of time, but he understood that he meant no harm to Bilbo or others. He felt the urge to be around him to keep this sense of peace, warmth; Bard wanted to keep him safe.

“If I said yes, I’d be lying,” Guarian responded before he turned to look at the hobbit a few yards away, speaking to Gandalf, “But it is what he wants to do.”

Guarian and Bard looked as Bilbo moved and spoke animatedly; neither were sure what had abruptly caused the small being to want to leave, but Guarian could guess. He did not dare look into the mind of the other knowing personal space and privacy was important and what little his charge had left; he did not wish to overstep.

“You know more than the rest of us,” Bard said though he kept his eyes on Bilbo.

Guarian did not speak though he remained staring at the hobbit besides the man; the silence was short though as the guardian turned to look at the archer, mirth and uncertainty in his eyes. Bard thought that those emotions were a funny pair to see mixed within those vibrant and mismatched eyes.

“I can feel his urge to move, but I will not search for the reason.”

“Why not?”

“It is not my place; Bilbo will explain when he feels ready.”

Bard studied the smaller male, a few inches shorter than his own height, and Guarian kept the steady stare. Neither spoke, each lost to their own thoughts when the sudden shout of a name caught both their attentions.

“Bard! You aren’t about to fight, are you?” Bilbo said, his hands on his hips staring the both of them down.

The small hobbit was an amusing sight; the male short in stature trying to discipline the other two whom were much taller than he though it did not seem to deter Bilbo.

“Not at all Bilbo, we were simply,” Guarian took a moment to find the proper word, “chatting.”

“Chatting?” Bilbo raised his brows, unamused.

“Yes, and a bit of silent communication,” Bard added as he recalled they had been silent, simply staring at each other the last few moments before Bilbo had called out to them.

“Communicating about what exactly?”

“Nothing,” both chimed together, earning a huff from the hobbit.

“Well then, shall we get moving?” Guarian piped up, “You are done correct?”

Bilbo sighed, nodding his head as he decided to drop the subject for the time being.

“I am,” he said before turning to the taller man, “Thank you again, Bard, for everything.”

“It has been my pleasure Bilbo, I just hope you will ride safe.”

“I will, Guarian will be with me and as you experienced earlier, I think I am in good hands.”

“So it appears,” Bard relented, though he was still unsure.

“How about I leave someone here?” Guarian said with a tilt of his head.

“Someone?” Bard and Bilbo asked in unison.

The guardian smiled, mirth in his eyes before he abruptly snapped his fingers. There was a brief silence, the hobbit and man staring at the other, confused, when there was a sudden pop. Both jumped back at the sound, their eyes closed shut as they flinched in reaction when they suddenly heard an unknown voice, speaking.

“You called?” a firm, deep voice asked.

There stood a tall man, taller than Bard, whose hair was vibrant and white as fallen snow. It was a mess of strands that seemed to defy gravity yet it framed his masculine face quite well. His skin was a soft tan, soft yet firm if one were to touch it or so it seemed to Bard. He felt a flash of heat cover his face before it seemed to consume the rest of his body when the stranger glanced at him directly and in reaction Bard licked his lips as they suddenly felt dry along with his mouth.

The strangers form was broad around the shoulders and he stood tall besides Guarian. His legs seemed to fill his pant quite well as the material seem to hug the man’s skin. His bare arms showed toned muscle that seem to pulsate beneath the skin as the limbs moved. Bard found himself getting an urge to touch, an urge he tried to contain when he saw Guarian’s amused eyes focused on him. He coughed, glaring at the guardian just as said male spoke.

“I did. Valen, I’d like you to meet my charge, Bilbo and a friend, Bard.”

Valen, turned towards the named males and bowed his head.

“Pleasure.”

“Bard, Bilbo, this is Valen. You may think of him as my guard but also close friend,” Guarian wore a grin, “And he shall be staying here to help you rebuild and keep quick contact between us and you, Bard.”

Said man felt as if the ground beneath him gave.


End file.
